By the exercise of remarkable seamanship Captain Hull had succeeded in escaping from the British squadron, under Broke, off the Jersey coast. But he came so near capture that the secretary of the navy succeeded in frightening himself and the whole Cabinet at Washington into such a state of timidity that, had they had their way, no war-vessel flying the American flag would have been allowed to leave any Atlantic seaport and put to sea.

Captain Hull had carried the “Constitution” into Boston, where, if the orders had reached him in time, the secretary would have peremptorily bidden him to remain. But Hull was not in a humor to be inactive. What he wanted was a fight, yard-arm to yard-arm, with a frigate of the enemy, preferably the “Guerriere,” Captain Richard Dacres, who had sailed boldly up and down the coast with an open challenge to any frigate flying the American flag. Though very warm personal friends ashore, both Hull and Dacres had high opinions of the merits of their own vessels. Dacres voiced the prevailing sentiment of the officers of his navy when he spoke of the “Constitution” as a bunch of pine boards which the British would knock to pieces in twenty minutes. Hull said little; but several months before war was declared had met Dacres, and wagered him a cocked hat on the result should the “Constitution” and the “Guerriere” ever meet. With the timidity at home, neither he nor any American officers had much encouragement. There was no confidence in the navy at this period, and the insults they heard from abroad were not half so hard to bear as the thinly-veiled indifference they met at home.

But Hull knew he had a good ship and a good crew. He had trained them himself, and he knew what they could do aloft and at the guns. Moreover, he knew what he could do himself. The navy was small, but the men who had smelt powder in the Revolution and before Tripoli were a stalwart set and had done deeds of gallantry that had set the greatest admirals of Europe by the ears. Many ingenious contrivances had been adopted, to be now tried for the first time. Sights had been put upon the guns, and the gun-captains knew better how to shoot than ever before. So, without waiting for the orders from the secretary which he knew would hold him in port indefinitely, Hull sailed on the first fair wind and uncompromisingly put out to sea. If the orders came, he wouldn’t be back to obey unless he had captured a British frigate, or, at the very least, some merchant prizes. If he did not succeed, it meant that he might be hung or shot for sailing without orders. But even this sword of Damocles did not deter him. He would do his best, at any rate, and made a quiet seaman’s petition to the God of winds and seas to send him the “Guerriere.”

Thinking to find a better opportunity towards Halifax, where many British men-of-war and merchantmen put in, Hull sailed to the northward, and cruised as far as the mouth of the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The frigate “Spartan,” 38, was in those waters; but after watching for her for some days, he stood out to sea. On the 15th of August he sighted five vessels. The “Constitution” set all sail and rapidly came up with them. Four of them scattered, leaving the fifth, a brig, on fire. Hull made for the largest of the others, and found her to be an English merchantman in charge of an American prize-crew. The “Constitution” saved her from capture at the hands of the other vessels. Before night another vessel was overhauled, and she was found to be the American “Adeline,” in the hands of a prize-crew from the British “Avenger.” One vessel was destroyed and the other was sent to Boston in charge of Midshipman Madison and five men, carrying the first suggestion of the brilliant news which was to follow.

A few days later the “Constitution” chased and overhauled the American privateer “Decatur,” which, believing her to be an English cruiser, had thrown overboard almost all of her guns. The captain of the privateer had good news, though. He had sighted an English frigate the day before, sailing southward under easy sail. Hull immediately set everything the “Constitution” could carry and gave the quartermasters a course which should enable him to come up with her by the following day.

The next morning dawned clear, but the breezes fell light, and not until the morning watch was there wind enough to send the American frigate bowling along on her course under top-gallant-sails and royals. Hull took the deck for awhile himself and sent lookouts to the fore- and main-royal-yards to keep a sharp lookout. With moderate luck they should catch up with her. And then Hull felt that he would make the “Constitution” the most talked about ship afloat or else he would change the timidity at the Navy Department into a panic for which there would be some reason.

If the ship were the “Guerriere,” he promised himself a new hat.

Not a sail hove in sight until towards two in the afternoon, when a lookout aloft shouted, in a voice that was taken up by four hundred throats on the spar- and gun-decks, —

“Sail ho!”

In a moment the watch below came rushing up. So great was the excitement that many of them went half-way to the tops, without orders or permission, to view the stranger. In an hour the stronger glasses proved her plainly to be a frigate, and the “Constitution” eased off her sheets, and with the bit in her teeth boomed steadily down for her. For an hour the two ships moved in this position, the stranger making no effort to escape and leaving her colors, which were soon made out to be British, flying in defiance. In fact, as soon as she discovered the “Constitution” to be an American frigate she took in sail, laid her maintop-sail to the mast, and silently awaited the approach. Hull sailed on until within about three miles of the enemy, when he sent his light yards down, reefed his topsails, and cleared ship for action.

An American-built frigate was for the first time to test her stanchness against a worthy representative of the mistress of the seas and “Terror of the World.” Most of the crew had never been in close action before. The chase of the “Constitution” had tired their hearts less than their bodies, for the firing of the British squadron had been at a very long range, and there was never a time when their ship was in danger from the cannonading of the enemy. There was not a qualm or a fear to be seen on the faces either of grizzled seaman or powder-boy, and they went to quarters with enthusiasm.

But underlying it all there was a note of gravity. They were going to bring an American ship into action with a frigate whose navy had scored hundreds of victories over the vessels of all the great nations of the earth. They half wondered at their audacity and that of their captain in defying a frigate so redoubtable as the “Guerriere,” for there seemed no further doubt that it was she. But they looked up at Hull, who was calmly pacing up and down the quarter-deck, taking a look now and then at the enemy through his glass, and their confidence came back to them. The excitement was intense, and one by one the men began throwing aside their shirts and drawing in the buckles of their cutlass-hangers, most of the gun-crews stripping themselves to the waist and casting aside their shoes to avoid slipping on the decks when the blood began to flow. More than one of them had his own private score to settle with the British navy. Many of them had been at one time or another taken off American merchant-ships and impressed into the service of the enemy, and some of them still bore upon their backs the scars of the bloody lashes of the relentless “Cat.” The father of Captain Hull had died in the pest-ship “Jersey,” in the Revolution, and the other officers had all some grievances of their own which made them look eagerly forward to the battle which they intended should mean victory or death.

On the “Guerriere” there was a feeling of unshaken confidence. That any calamity to their ship could be expected from an American-built vessel, manned by a crew collected haphazard among the merchant-ships of the Atlantic harbors, never for a moment occurred to them. When the drum beat to quarters, the men tumbled to their stations willingly enough, with no more trepidation than if they were going to target-practice. Captain Dacres summoned an American prisoner, the captain of the captured merchant-brig “Betsy,” and asked him what he thought of the vessel which was approaching. The skipper ventured that she was undoubtedly an American frigate. Captain Dacres replied with a smile, —

“She comes down a shade too boldly for an American.” And then added, “Well, the better he behaves the more honor we will have in taking him.”

As the “Constitution” bore down nearer, her ensign and jack flying proudly, there could no longer be any doubt as to her nationality and intentions, and he shouted to his crew, who stood at the guns, —

“There, my men, is a Yankee frigate. In forty-five minutes she is certainly ours. Take her in fifteen, and I promise you four months’ pay.”

Shortly after this Captain Hull was within two or three miles, and the “Guerriere” opened fire on the “Constitution,” to try the distance and get the range.

The shots fell short, but Hull took in his light sails and came down more warily under topsails. The “Constitution” fired a broadside, but these shots, too, dropped in the water between them. As he came nearer, the “Guerriere” squared away, wearing first to port and then to starboard, firing alternate broadsides and manœuvring to avoid being raked. He wanted to cripple the American’s rigging from a distance, if possible. But the shot all missed their mark, and the “Constitution” only replied with her bow-guns. Hull soon saw that this manœuvring might last the day out without coming to close quarters, so he hoisted his top-gallant-sails and made straight for the enemy.

Now the shot of the Englishman began coming aboard. Some of the standing rigging was cut away and the vessel was hulled several times. But the men, having carefully reloaded, stood silently at their guns, looking out through the ports at the “Guerriere,” which, enveloped in smoke, kept up a continuous fire. They looked anxiously at the short, stout, sturdy figure of Captain Hull, but he continued pacing the quarter-deck, making no sign that he was aware of the damage the shots were causing. In a moment the report of “Nobody hurt yet, sir,” ceased suddenly. A shot struck the “Constitution’s” starboard bulwarks up forward and sent a jagged hail of splinters among the crew of two of the guns of the first division. Two men were killed outright and one or two more were wounded by this shot, and as their shipmates saw the men carried below to the cockpit they moved uneasily, and several of the gun-captains wished to fire. Lieutenant Morris now, with a view to quieting them, strode aft to the quarter-deck, where Hull was still calmly pacing up and down, and said, —

“The enemy has killed two of our men. Shall we return it?”

“Not yet, sir,” replied the impenetrable Hull.

Morris returned to his station. But there is nothing more disorganizing to men than to be fired at and not have the opportunity of firing in return, and they besought Morris again to give the permission. Twice more the lieutenant went aft to the quarter-deck, and twice he got the same reply. Hull, like Paul Jones, believed in great broadsides at close quarters. This silence under galling fire was the greatest test of discipline an American crew had ever had. For in the heat of battle a man forgets to be afraid. That the men stood to it, speaks well for Hull’s training.

At last the “Constitution,” which had been drawing closer and closer, drew up to a position about forty yards off the “Guerriere’s” port-quarter, and Hull, waiting until his guns could all bear, stooped low, bursting his breeches from knee to waistband in the excitement of the moment, and gave vent to all the pent-up feelings of two hours in the hoarse order, —

“Now, boys, give it to them!”

It was a well-directed broadside.

The shots crashed along the line of bulwarks and sent showers of splinters flying over her spar-deck. The ships were so close together that the effect of those shots could be seen distinctly. Some of the splinters flew as high as the mizzen-top, and instantly the English cheering ceased and the shrieks and cries of the wounded rang out between the concussions. Dacres now, for the first time, must have realized how great the honor would be if he took the “Constitution.”

Nor did the action promise any sign of being over in fifteen minutes. So well aimed were the American guns that in a short time the enemy’s main-yard was shot away, and he was otherwise damaged severely both below and aloft. At a little after six a twenty-four pound shot went through the “Guerriere’s” mizzen-mast, and, swaying a moment, over it fell to starboard, making a wreck and drag which impeded the Englishman’s manœuvres. The seas pounded it against the sides of the ship and a hole was knocked under her stern, through which she began taking water badly. When the mizzen-mast fell, Hull threw off his hat, and shouted, —

“Hurrah, boys, we’ve made a brig of her!”

One of the seamen shouted back, —

“We’ll make a sloop of her soon, sir!”

And they did; for in a little while the foremast followed by the board. The wreck trailing in the water astern acted as a rudder to the “Guerriere,” and she swung across the wind. The “Constitution” forged ahead, and crossing her bows, poured in a raking broadside. Then swinging round to port, she sent in another as effective as the first. The ships were very close together, and a fire from a burning gun-wad broke out in the cabin of the American ship. This was quickly put out, however, by Lieutenant Hoffman of the after-gun division.

Both captains now decided to board, and the men were massed on the decks as they could be spared from the guns for the purpose. Dacres was on the point of sending his men across his bowsprit, but, finding the jackies of the “Constitution” ready to receive him, changed his mind. The sharpshooters in the tops of both vessels were firing into the black masses of men, and every shot told. Lieutenant Morris, on the “Constitution,” while attempting to take a few turns of rope around the bowsprit of the “Guerriere,” received a bullet through the body. William S. Bush, the first lieutenant of marines, while standing on the taffrail ready to board, was shot through the skull by a British marine, and instantly killed. John C. Alwyn, the sailing-master, at the same time received a ball through the shoulder. Captain Hull climbed up on the rail, when a Yankee seaman, putting his arms around him, dragged him down and out of danger.

“Not with them swabs on,” he said, pointing to Hull’s big bullion epaulettes. He would have been a certain mark for one of the sharpshooters of the enemy.

At about this time the flag of the “Constitution,” which had been nailed at the mizzen-truck, was shot down. But a young topman, named Hogan, shinned up the spar far aloft, and, though fired at repeatedly by the British marines, succeeded in replacing it amid the cheers of his companions.

On the “Guerriere” things were going badly. Captain Dacres had been shot in the back by one of the American marines, but he pluckily remained on deck. As the “Constitution” got clear again, both the mainmast and foremast of the “Guerriere,” which had been repeatedly cut by American shot, went over with a crash, and she lay on the wave completely helpless. This was less than half an hour after the “Constitution” sent in her terrible broadside.

The American ship drew off to a short distance to repair her damages, and in less than an hour returned, and sent Lieutenant Read in a cutter to discover if Captain Dacres had surrendered.

Dacres’s humiliation was complete, and he felt that further battle would only be the butchery of his own brave fellows.

Lieutenant Read hailed him to learn if he had surrendered.

“I don’t know that it would be prudent to continue the engagement any longer.”

“Do I understand you to say that you have struck?” asked Read.

“Not precisely; but I don’t know that it would be worth while to fight any longer.”

“If you cannot decide,” said the American, “I will return aboard my ship and resume the engagement.”

Dacres here called out hurriedly, —

“I am pretty much hors de combat already. I have hardly men enough to work a single gun and my ship is in a sinking condition.”

“I wish to know, sir,” demanded Read peremptorily, “whether I am to consider you as a prisoner of war or as an enemy. I have no time for further parley.”

Dacres paused, and then said, brokenly, “I believe now there is no alternative. If I could fight longer I would with pleasure, but I – I must surrender.”

When Dacres went up the side of the “Constitution” to surrender his sword he was treated in the manner befitting his rank by a generous enemy. Captain Hull assisted him to the deck, saying, anxiously, —

“Dacres, give me your hand; I know you are hurt.” And when the Englishman extended his sword, hilt forward, in formal surrender, Hull said, magnanimously, —

“No, no; I will not have the sword of a man who knows so well how to use it. But” – and his eyes twinkled merrily – “but I’ll thank you for that hat.” He had not forgotten the wager, if Dacres had.

The transferring of prisoners was at once begun, for it was seen that the “Guerriere” was a hopeless hulk, not fit to take to port. When this was all completed and every article of value taken from her, she was blown up, and the “Constitution” sailed for Boston.

She arrived at an opportune time. For Detroit had been surrendered without firing a shot in its defence, and the American arms on the Canadian frontier had otherwise met with disastrous failure. The “Constitution,” gaily dressed in flags, came up the harbor amid the booming of cannon and the wildest of excitement among the people. A banquet was given to the officers in Faneuil Hall, and from that time the American navy gained a prestige at home it has never since lost. Congress voted a gold medal to Captain Hull, silver ones to the officers, and fifty thousand dollars as a bonus to the crew.

The statistics of the fight are as follows:

The “Constitution” had fifty-five guns, the “Guerriere” forty-nine, sending shot weighing approximately seven hundred and six hundred pounds respectively. The “Constitution’s” crew numbered four hundred and sixty-eight; that of the “Guerriere” two hundred and sixty-three. The “Constitution” lost seven killed and seven wounded, and the “Guerriere” fifteen killed and sixty-three wounded. All authorities acknowledge that, other things being equal, the discrepancy in metal and crews hardly explains the difference in the condition of the vessels at the end of the battle.

THE “WASP” AND THE “FROLIC”

The American frigates “Constitution,” “Constellation,” and “United States” fought and won great battles where the metal and crews were equal or nearly equal, and proved beyond a doubt the advantage of American seamanship and gunnery over the British in the Naval War of 1812. But it remained for the little sloop-of-war “Wasp,” Captain Jacob Jones, to add the final evidence of Yankee superiority. Her action with the “Frolic” was fought under conditions so trying that it fairly ranks with the great frigate actions of our naval history.

The “Wasp” was only about one-sixth the size of the “Constitution.” She was about as big as the three-masted schooners which ply in and out of our Atlantic seaports to-day, and only carried one hundred and forty men. What she lacked in size she made up in personnel, and what she lacked in ordnance she made up in precision of fire. They must have been fine Jack tars and gallant fellows every one of them, for there was no chance for skulkers in that fight. The vessel could not have been handled or the guns served as they were with one man less.

It was off Albemarle Sound, in the rough end of a Hatteras gale, with a gun-platform which now rolled the gun-muzzles into the spume and then sent them skyward half-way to the zenith. It is a wonder that the gunners could hit anything at all; but almost every broadside told, and the hull of the “Frolic” was again and again riddled and raked fore and aft.

When the war broke out the “Wasp” was in European waters, carrying despatches for the government. She was immediately recalled, and in October, 1812, sailed from the Delaware to the southward and eastward to get in the track of the British merchantmen in the West India trade. On the 15th of October she ran into a gale of wind off the capes of the Chesapeake, and lost her jib-boom and two men who were working on it at the time. For two days and nights the little vessel tumbled about under storm-sails, but Captain Jacob Jones was one of the best seamen in the navy, and no further harm was done. On the night of the 17th the wind moderated somewhat, though the seas still ran high. At about half-past eleven a number of frigates were seen, and Captain Jones deeming it imprudent to bear down nearer until day should show him who the strangers were, sailed up to get the weather-gage and await the dawn. His forward rigging was disabled, and he had no wish to take chances with an enemy of greatly superior force.

The dawn came up clear and cold, and, as the darkness lifted, the crew of the “Wasp” could make out six fine merchantmen under convoy of a big brig. The brig was about the same size as the “Wasp,” and it was seen that several of the merchantmen mounted from eleven to eighteen guns each. Nevertheless, Jones sent his topmen aloft, and in a trice he had his light yards on deck and his ship reefed down to fighting-canvas. The vessel was rolling her bows half under, but the guns were cast loose and the decks cleared for action. The brig, too, showed signs of animation. Her men went aloft at about the same time as those of the “Wasp,” and soon she signalled her convoy to make all sail before the wind to escape.

The sea was so high that it was eleven o’clock before the vessels came within range of each other. Then on the English vessel the Spanish flag was run up to the gaff. But the Americans nevertheless held on a course which would soon bring the ships together. There were enough Englishmen in those waters for Jones to take chances of her being one of the enemy. By half-past eleven the ships were within speaking-distance, – two or three hundred feet apart, – and Captain Jones mounted the mizzen-rigging, lifting his voice so that it might be heard above the shrieking of the wind and sea, and shouted through his trumpet, —

“What ship is that?”

For answer the Spanish flag came down with a run, the British ensign was hoisted, and a broadside was fired. Just then a squall keeled the Englishman over to leeward, and the “Wasp” having the weather-gage, the shots whistled harmlessly overhead and through the rigging. The Yankee ship responded immediately. The gunners had been trained in all weathers to fire as their own vessel was about to roll downward on the wave towards their adversary. By this means the shots were more sure to go low in the enemy’s hull and to have the additional chance of the ricochet which would strike a glancing blow. They waited a second or so for this opportunity, and then sent their broadside of nine shots crashing through the hull of the “Frolic.”

The tumbling of the vessel sent the guns rolling about, and the tacklemen needed all their strength and skill to hold the guns in for serving and out for firing. But they were in no hurry. They worked as slowly and as surely as possible, taking every advantage of the roll of the vessel, training and aiming deliberately, and then firing at will. The Englishmen sent in three broadsides to two of the Yankees. But they fired from the hollow on the upward roll of the vessel and most of their shots went high, scarcely one of them striking the hull of the “Wasp.”

It is a wonderful thing to think even of these two little vessels, tossed about like billets of wood, the playthings of the elements, fighting a battle to the death with each other, ignoring the roaring of the sea and the hissing of the water which now and again seemed to completely engulf them in its foam. The waves came over the bows and waist of the “Wasp,” flooding the decks, overturning buckets and making division-tubs a superfluity. Sometimes it dashed in at the leeward ports, dipping the handles of the sponges and rammers, and even burying the muzzles of the guns, which the next moment would be pointing at the main-truck of their adversary. The powder-boys, wet to the waist, stumbled over the decks with their powder-charges under their jackets, and, though buffeted about and knocked down repeatedly, kept the men at the guns plentifully supplied with ammunition.

Although the British were firing rapidly and the shots were flying high, they began doing great damage in the rigging of the American. A few minutes after the battle was begun a shot from the “Frolic” struck the maintop-mast of the “Wasp” just above the cap, and it fell forward across the fore-braces, rendering the head-yards unmanageable for the rest of the action. A few minutes later other shots struck the mizzen-top-gallant-mast and the gaff, and soon almost every brace was shot away. The “Frolic” had been hulled repeatedly, but aloft had only lost her gaff and head-braces. In a quiet sea it would have been bad enough to lose the use of the sails, but in a gale of wind manœuvring became practically impossible. The wind was blowing fiercely so both vessels drove on before it, keeping up the cannonading whenever a gun would bear, and pouring in from the tops a fire of musketry upon the officers and men upon the decks.

The “Wasp,” having squared forward by the dropping of her maintop-mast across the fore-braces, no longer sailed on the wind, and in a moment drew forward, gradually approaching across the bows of the “Frolic,” which, having lost the use of her head-sails, could not sheer off. Captain Jones was quick to see his advantage, and ran the enemy’s bowsprit between the main- and mizzen-masts of the “Wasp.” The vessels now began striking and grinding against each other furiously, as though by a test of the stanchness of their timbers to settle the battle between them. The men who were loading two of the port broadside guns of the “Wasp” struck the bow of the “Frolic” with their rammers and found themselves looking into the forward ports of the enemy. The guns were loaded with grape, and after the ships crashed together were fired directly through those forward ports of the “Frolic,” raking her from stem to stern in a frightful manner.

The next wave tore the ships apart, and the “Wasp” forged ahead, the bowsprit of the Englishman catching in the mizzen-shrouds, where Lieutenant James Biddle and a party of officers and seamen were awaiting the order to board. In this position the bowsprit of the “Frolic” was pounding terribly upon the poop of the “Wasp.” At every send of the waves the bows of the Englishman would fall as the stern of the American rose, and it seemed as though both ships would be torn to pieces. The men of the “Wasp” had wished to board, the moment the ships had come together, and crowded along the hammock-nettings hardly to be restrained. But Captain Jones, knowing the advantage of his raking position, wanted to send in another broadside. He called the men back to the guns, but they were too intent upon their object. One brawny fellow, named Jack Lang, who had been impressed into the British service, made a spring, and catching a piece of gear, swung himself up on the bowsprit and clambered down alone, his cutlass in his teeth, to the enemy’s deck. The “Wasp’s” men cheered vigorously, and, leaving their guns, rushed aft to follow him. Captain Jones, seeing that they would not be denied, then gave the order to Lieutenant Biddle to board.

Biddle, cutlass in hand, jumped upon the nettings to lead the men. Midshipman Yorick Baker, being too small to clamber up alone, and seeing Biddle’s coat-tails flapping in the wind, seized hold of them, one in each hand. He did not want to be left behind, and thought he might trust to the impetuosity of his superior officer to land him successfully among the first on the deck of the enemy. But just then a terrific lurch threw Biddle off his balance, and they both came violently to the deck. They were up again in a second, however, and with Lieutenant George W. Rogers and a party of seamen finally reached the bowsprit of the “Frolic.”

Upon the fo’c’s’le of the enemy stood Jack Lang, swinging to the motion of the brig, his cutlass at his side, looking aft at a scene of carnage that was hardly imaginable. All the fierceness had died out of him, for he looked around at Biddle and grinned broadly. The decks were covered with the dead and dying, who tossed about in the wash of bloody water with every heave of the ship. The decks, masts, bulwarks, and rails were torn to ribbons, huge jagged splinters projecting everywhere. Guns, tubs, sponges, rammers, and solid shot were adrift, pounding from one side of the wreck to the other. No one moved to secure them, for only half a dozen men stood upright. At the wheel an old quartermaster, badly wounded, swung grimly, ready to die at his post. Behind him an English lieutenant, bleeding from ghastly wounds, clutched at a stanchion for support. Two other officers stood near, and one or two jackies glared forward at the Americans. There was no sign of resistance, and the wave of pity which came over Biddle and his officers swept away all desire for battle. The British flag was still flying. No one seemed to have the strength to haul it down; so Biddle went aft and lowered it to the deck. In a few moments the masts fell, and she lay a useless hulk wallowing upon the waves, which, more sure of their prey, dashed against her torn sides, widening the gashes made by her indomitable enemy, and at times making clean breaches over her bulwarks, tearing loose her boats and otherwise completing her destruction.